


Perfect

by TheEvilHina



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Canon, Angst, Brother Feels, Brotherly Love, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-03-05 14:12:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3123119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEvilHina/pseuds/TheEvilHina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of prompt on the Kink Meme:<br/>Kili is half-Elven and obviously so. Legolas falls for him and Thranduil offers the Dwarves their freedom in exchange for Kili, who will marry Legolas. Thorin accepts. Kili is left in Mirkwood, trying to cope everything. Eventual happy ending.<br/>Full Prompt in notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. she killed it with kisses and from it she fled

**Author's Note:**

> Found it and the prompt spoke to me so I decided to fill it. I haven't seen the Hobbit movies yet (thing with a friend who I marathoned the LoTR's movies with and she made me swear not to see the Hobbit movies until they all come out) so this is off the book and many...many fanfictions that I've read.......many....many.....  
> Kink Meme Prompt: 
> 
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=24319093#t24319093
> 
> Kili's father/ancestor was an Elf. Kili has no beard at all, and his immortality is just starting to kick in (his ageing is slowing down). Many of his instincts and tastes are also unmistakably Elven.  
> So Kili basically looks like a very small Elf and growing up wasn't always easy for him. Nevertheless, Fili loves him, whether Thorin does or doesn't is up to filler.
> 
> When the company reach Mirkwood, the Elves are enchanted by Kili, who isn't used to this kind of attention. Legolas falls in love pretty much at first sight, and Thranduil is happy, because finally there's a decent marriage prospect for his son; Dwarven, but only half (plus potential reconciliation/bond with dwarves), royalty, pretty, and long-lived. He tells Thorin he's willing to set them free (and pardon any other offences) if Kili is left with them and married to Legolas. Whether Thorin cares for Kili or not, he accepts, maybe because he wants Kili out of the way/safe.
> 
> Kili is distraught, because he's pretty sure he's only been chosen on account of being as un-Dwarf-like as it's possible to be when you are one, and his family are leaving him with a load of scary Elves.
> 
> Obviously I want a happy ending, with Legolas and Kili falling in love, but I'd like to see the difficulties from things like Legolas complimenting him on things that the Dwarves always thought of as weaknesses/ugliness, and generally being actually quite terrified of his new spouse and family.
> 
> Tauriel can be around too if wanted - I'd prefer no love triangles but maybe she's relieved Legolas has found someone who can actually make him and his father happy. Then maybe she tries to help Kili adjust when it's obvious he's having problems. And maybe Legolas gets a little jealous of their bond.
> 
> I named the fic after the song Perfect by Simple Plan (oh pre-teen angst years) and I guess I used it as an embodiment of Kili's feelings towards Thorin, so there you go.
> 
> Small update, I'm having someone I know proof-read my chapters now. They proof read the first one which I redid with the corrected words and such. Minor things, nothing major.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prologue of sorts...

Trees were always comforting to Kíli; they were his hidden sanctuary, blocked by the branches and fragments of leaves left over. Fíli always knew exactly where he was, no matter how far he went away or how high he climbed. Fíli would wait at the bottom by the roots; hands folded in his lap, for however long it would take for Kíli to come down. When Kíli would come down, Fíli would be silent, waiting for whenever his brother felt it was time to talk. Sometimes he would and sometimes he wouldn’t, but it was always because of the same thing.

~

Dís never told anyone who fathered Kíli, but the race was blatantly obvious the moment he arrived. His pointed ears were not as large as a full blooded elven child, but the point was there for everyone in the room to see. Thorin was confused and almost felt betrayed by his sisters philandering around with the enemy. Thorin was enraged and stormed away from the crying babe in Oin’s arms without a word. Left behind by his uncle, Fíli looked up at the Dwarrow before him, before peeking into the bundle of blankets that held his baby brother. Sure his ears looked a little weird, but this was his little brother, he was going to go on adventures with him and show him how lucky he was that he got a brother like Fíli. 

His grabbing fingers ignored while Oin returned to the room with the babe in hand, resting the child down on the bed next to the exhausted Dís. He left the room to go get herbs, leaving Dís and Fíli alone with the now suckling child.

“Come here, Fíli.” 

Fíli’s head shot up, and he quickly scrambled onto the bed next to his mother, eyes immediately landing on the feeding babe in her arms. 

“This is your little brother,” Dís said, softly brushing her beard away from the child’s head, “His name will be Kíli-“

“That’s almost like mine.” Fíli said as he bounced excitedly up and down on the bed. Dís chuckled very softly before smiling at him.

“Yes,” She adjusted her grip on Kíli, “Your uncle may not agree with me because your fathers are not the same, but I frankly don’t care about what he says.” She rested her forehead against Fíli’s softly, “I want you to watch over your brother closely. I don’t know how the will treat him, but I can only guess it will not be the way he deserves.”

~

Kíli knew his uncle didn’t hate him.

Thorin held him when he had nightmares, took care of him when he was sick, and even helped him make his first bow and arrows. He loved both Kíli and Fíli like they were his sons, but. But he would never fully accept Kíli as a true heir. Kíli knew this from the small things that he did around the other Dwarrow. When the younger ones picked on him for his ears or slender form or even for his lack of beard, Uncle would only help if they became violent. He never talked to the older Dwarrow about Kíli being of elven descent; if it came up he would shut them down with a look or a poorly hidden threat. 

Yes, Thorin loved Kíli, but he would never accept him.

~

“Erebor!” Dís yelled at Thorin, “Are you a fool or are you just mad?” Kíli paused as he walked past the wooden door that led into Uncle’s study. Fíli entered with Mother not too long before Kíli had grown bored and went to Fíli and his room. Kíli leaned his ear against the door softly to better hear what they were saying. 

“I am not mad or a fool, you know that the mountain is rightfully ours, and I will not allow it to be held by the thing any longer than it has!” That was Uncle, Kíli thought to himself, and he focused his hearing even more closely. Are they talking about the Misty Mountain? Kíli wondered. 

“Do you honestly believe that you can kill a dragon?” Mother growled at Uncle, “No one’s going to join your expedition, it’s doomed to fail in the start.” There was a loud sound and then glass breaking, followed by silence. 

“Uncle…” Fíli? “You can’t expect to do this on your own. Mother’s right, I can only name a few people who will pledge themselves to your cause.” Dwalin and Balin, the Ri brothers possibly, Kíli couldn’t think of that many more. They had settled down in the Blue Mountains, while it would never be home for some, it was for many. “That’s why,” Kíli pulled himself back into the conversation, “I’m going to come with you.” 

~

Fíli was the only reason Kíli stayed in the Blue Mountains past when he came of age. He could have left a long time ago, but Fíli was always there to pull him back and beg him to stay. Fíli knew when he cried himself to sleep in bed at night when the other Dwarrow had been just a bit too cruel. When Uncle had given Fíli something precious but didn’t even notice that Kíli was there. Fíli was there to teach Kíli in private so he could build more of the muscle his body naturally lacked. He was there on the day that Kíli first hit the center of the target with his ‘useless’ bow. He was there when he beard grew in, only if it was that little bit. 

Fíli was even the first person, even before their mother, to braid in a bead that Fíli had made him special. 

Fíli was the center of Kíli’s word to the point where they never left each other’s side because that was what they were. They were never made to be only one person; they completed each other. There was no Kíli without a Fíli or Fíli without a Kíli.

~

“You aren’t going without me, Uncle.” 

Thorin turned quickly to see Kíli standing by himself inside the doorway to his office. Thorin had reflexing covered the map of Middle Earth that Dori had given to him when he had announced his intentions to go retake Erebor. “What are you talking about, Kíli?” Thorin feigned innocence, which would have worked if Kíli weren't so good at seeing through people.

Kíli walked across the room, the floorboards creaking softly from his weight, “If you’re taking Fíli with you, you know that I’m coming as well.” Thorin turned and gazed down at his sister-son for a moment before turning back to his map.

“No.”

~

Most of the Dwarrow were ill content with the meager plants they sometimes were forced to eat during the rougher months. When the cold had pushed back the animals, they would have hunted and made a feast to the community. Kíli had never minded much over; Bifur would help him find the plants that tasted the best. They benefited each other; with age Bifur’s eyesight was slowly leaving him, and Kíli’s eyes were ever keen, keener than most his age. They would share their spoils between the two of them because Uncle and Fíli weren’t fond of green things and Mother never liked to hear about Kíli wondering the woods in the snow. 

Uncle didn’t like it when he found out at first; he said, “the elf in you is even poisoning your appetite.” It burned inside to hear Kíli’s person insulted in such a way, but he was long used to it at that point. He almost didn’t feel the pain anymore.

~

Thorin shut the book in his hands and gently set it to the side before looking down at the two young boys before him. Kíli was nearly asleep, his whiskey brown eyes fluttering in their attempt to keep themselves from shutting. Thorin reached over and gently ran his hand down the boy's face before leaning down to place a kiss on the boy’s forehead. When he rose up, Kíli was fast asleep his breath evening out, and his body was relaxing. Thorin’s eyes wandered over to see Fíli smiling softly, glancing down at his younger brother with a twinkle in his stormy gray eyes. Fíli and Thorin’s eyes met, and a breathless chuckle left their lips before Thorin rose and left the room, making sure to blow out a the only candle in the room on his way out.

Fíli lay in the darkness and looked down at his younger brother with a fond smile on his face. He could barely make out Kíli’s face in the darkness, but he didn’t need to see him to know what he looked like. Fíli rubbed his face up against Kíli’s before settling his head on Kíli’s pillow and sleeping.

~

Kíli got used to ignoring anything that the other dwarves would say about him whether it was behind his back or to his face. A convenient perk of being half-elven was that he was naturally much lighter on his feet than his brethren, so pulling pranks? It was the best way of getting revenge. He became infamous around the Blue Mountains and many who did not wish ill would give him a wide berth. But, it tended to draw in the more curious types who wished for older, wiser friends the lead them into trouble.

Gimli was an interesting dwarf to say the least; he still had the same amount of dislike for elves as any dwarf did, but he didn’t carry it as strongly as many would. It was hard for Kíli to understand, but it was like Gimli opened his mind more than any other dwarf he had ever known, past Fíli of course. He wasn’t shy about his curiosity over what it was like being half-elven though when you wouldn’t give him an answer his temper was as fiery as his hair.

Gimli would obsess with proving his worth, no matter the obstacle, so he looked to Kíli and Fíli for a sense of guidance that Gloin was afraid they would give. The only reason he allowed Gimli to run with two of them was because Ori was supposed to be the voice of guidance for them. It was unfortunate for Dori that Ori was just as mischievous as them. Gimli was unlucky, being the youngest of all three of them and also having the most protective of all their guardians. 

But Kíli would have never given up their friendships for anything; they helped and defended him when he couldn’t, they helped him through the good and the bad days. 

~

“What do you mean you’re all leaving?” Kíli’s head shot around, and his eyes locked on Gimli’s.

“Gimli?” Fíli stepped out of the backroom, clutching traveling bags most likely filled with their clothes and a few more sentimental items. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re all leaving? Both of you, Ori, Da, everyone?” Gimli’s face was almost matching the shade of red that covered his head. “You’re all leaving me behind to go off on some adventure?” An awkward silence filled the room as Kíli stopped what he was doing and shuffled his feet in shame.

Fíli held his composer far better than Kíli, “You’re too young Gimli.”

“Why? Just because I’m sixty-two? Doesn’t mean I’m not old enough to go with you! Your both not even two hundred between the two of you and Ori’s only seventy-one.” Gimli’s sneer was something they were all used to, being the youngest did not give much in the way of privileges. It had been a sore point for Gimli for years, being the youngest, and it certainly wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

“Gimli, please, it’s too dangerous to bring you along, you’ve only just begun your advanced training.” Kíli tried to be reasonable, but he knew it was a bad idea. Trying to reason with an upset Gimli was just asking for it to blow back into your face. 

And was he ever correct, “Shut your bloody mouth you...beardless elven bastard!” Tears ran down Gimli’s cheeks as he sprinted as fast as he could out the door, Fíli quick on his heels calling after him. 

Gimli’s insult hit home, and great pain filled the inside of Kíli’s chest. Even his friends thought so ill of him? He knew it was leaving their relationship on a horrid note to leave then, but on the morrow they would begin their march to the Shire to pick up their last member before heading to the Lonely Mountain. He needed to finish preparing and sleep.

~

Thorin was what Kíli believe to be an ideal dwarf. He wasn’t perfect, but nobody was; he was everything that Kíli wanted to be. If he could become what Thorin was then maybe, his body and lineage wouldn’t matter to the world around him as much. Yes, Thorin was what many would call the perfect representation of the Dwarrow race; he was physically imposing, his beard trimmed down low in long mourning for his brethren lost at Erebor and Moria. He had a commanding regal, majestic quality about him that made others around him bow to his presence. But he didn’t just command respect he earned it through how much he cared for his people. The pain of their people was held up constantly upon his shoulders for the world to see, and his shoulders were wide. 

Kíli didn’t wish to become a figurehead or a leader that was Fíli’s fate, but he dreamed of earning the respect of others through his deeds and more. He had long since felt trapped in the Blue Mountains and, with this new quest, maybe he can be the one that can earn the respect that he had long dreamed. If at least by his uncle’s companions and his family.


	2. I'm scared to death that I'll never be afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have gotten this out sooner, but I had a couples days of work that really dragged out and then my sister came down from college. I had fun writing this and jamming out to my music; I really tried to work on character personalities cause it's something I'm always lacking in so I watched a lot of The Hobbit interviews with actors and such, to catch an idea of who these people I'm writing really are. Peter Jackson gave a lot more life to each individual characters personalities from what I can tell from them come to life. I respect all the actors for being able to take that step and fill in the empty faces that we had when thinking about all these dwarves. I didn't really care much for the characters past Thorin, Bilbo, and Fili and Kili when I first read the book in class and that is something I regret. 
> 
> Even if the actors never read anything I do and nobody likes it and it just fades away in the depths of AO3, I will feel honored furthering these characters and helping in a very small way to bringing them to life.

“Fíli…”

“…and Kíli!”

“At your service!”

~

On the eve of his sixtieth year, Kíli knew that time was slowing for him. It was a subtle change; his hair took longer to grow, while laugh lines were beginning to show on Fíli’s face; Kíli’s was wrinkle free. Uncle’s hair was streaked lightly with silver that showed his growing age; Dwalin shaved the hair from the top of his scalp to rid himself of the receding hairline. Everyone around him aged and grew into themselves while all Kíli could see how he was getting abandoned. The true realization of what it meant for him to be elven came like a punch in the face when he overheard Thorin speaking with Fíli about him taking over as leader in the future. 

Immortality was something the Kíli had never considered, and now it became that looming shadow in the otherwise bright room. It draped itself over him and clung on tightly, refusing the release him from its grip. Everyone around him would eventually die. His mother, uncle, friends, Fíli, would all be dead, and he would be alone with no one to watch over him. He’d never even met an elf before, how was he supposed to understand any of the other implications if all the examples he had were from stories and books that bored him. 

Kíli wanted nothing more than to just be able to be a dwarf, to live and grow old with his brother not far away, with his friends by his side, helping him along the way. But that is just something he’ll never get to see, a reality that will never be.

~

Bilbo Baggins (of course he knew his name, it was just fun to see the look on his face) was as strange as Kíli expected him to be. He had a stern face covered in lines that told their stories without yelling them at you. His displeasure at their rather abrupt entrance was obvious, and Kíli liked how easily irritated the Hobbit was. Most in the party were aware of Kíli’s antics, so they ignored him mostly, differing to his brother more often and not when wanting input into something important. Which was all fine and dandy for Kíli, he never quite enjoyed being a part of planning, but it did sting a little that they would discard his opinion so. 

Next to Fíli, it was rather grand to have Ori along as well, even with Gimli along it felt more like home. Even if Ori had his hands busy the majority of the time writing down everything that happened. And maybe mooning over a certain oblivious bald and tattooed dwarf. Which was not new, but they were all singing and Kíli enjoyed Bofur’s songs.

The hobbit’s food was grand in comparison to some of the food that they had eaten back home. He and Bifur quite enjoyed sharing the salad that Mister Baggins had put up since it remained untouched by their companions. He allowed himself some meat, but it had never appealed to him as much as it probably should have, which didn’t bother him much. Fíli didn’t like green things so he mostly passed the one that their mother would put on his plate to Kíli. 

Mr. Baggin’s distress over his plates and knives was amusing at best, but when Uncle arrived all the fun of the evening seemed to disappear into thin air. 

~

One of Kíli’s favorite past times was metal working, the most dwarven thing he could do well. He liked to drop the molten metal down into the molds, watching it settle before pressing it into a shape and cooling it. Uncle said that the forges that rested in Erebor were the finest in all of Middle Earth, ready and waiting for Dwarrow hands to once again touch hammer against steel. Thorin always smiled down at Kíli when he worked; being one of the best blacksmiths in the Blue Mountains, he was the best mentor Kíli could have had.

~

It was the night, his belly was full, and so was his mind. Thoughts raced back and forth through his head as he tried to reason through the words his Uncle had spoken to him when they were alone. He had spoken as if it had weighed down on his mind for weeks, months, maybe even years. Was Kíli so useless as a dwarf? Was there nothing here for him to do, but be in the way? Kíli would rather die than burden his family; he loved them far too much for such a thing. 

Kíli looked over at the still form of his sleeping brother and softly whispered his name, fearing waking the other inhabitants of the room they rested. Fíli rocked gently before turning his head to stare at his younger brother; eyes fogged over with sleep, but a small twinkle telling Kíli he was fully aware. “What is it Kíli? Can’t sleep?” 

Kíli nodded assent, “But it’s not from dreams or nervousness, just…” Kíli frowned up at the low ceiling above them, “questions.”

Fíli’s face screwed up in confusion before turning himself fully onto his side to stare at Kíli in the darkness. “What questions could be keeping you from sleep?” Kíli chuckled softly before going silent for a few moments.

“Do you think I should have come here?” 

Fíli face only became more confused as he pushed himself up onto one arm, an incredulous expression shadowing on his face. “Of course I do!” Then, Fíli paused, and he looked away. “Well,” another beat of silence, “I don’t want you to be in danger, and this quest…” Fíli swept his arm through the air before it fell into his lap, and he hunched forward almost out of sight in the darkness. “Everything, from beginning to end, will be an obstacle for us to overcome, why would I want my little brother exposed to that?

“But, it’ll haunt me every step that we take towards Erebor; the thought of leaving you behind. You would be angry and might even begin to resent me in my absence. This quest means the betterment of you, me, all of our people. Uncle is our King; I am his heir-“

“And what am I, the extra? An oddity that can be tucked away to look at when curious, but never used?” Kíli pushed himself up at Fíli’s level and held his face in his hands. “Have I no place among you? Must I sit back and watch you do great things with our but never truly experience it as well?” Kíli flung himself back onto the bedroll and pulled the covers over his face. “Just forget that I said anything and go to sleep, we leave early tomorrow.” 

Fíli grimaced but knew that whenever Kíli got like this, there was no speaking to him. He followed Kíli’s instruction and pulled the covers over his tired body and shut his eyes.

~

On this inside, every being of Middle Earth has a sense of Adventure hidden deep within them. Whether they enjoy it or not, is to be seen.

~

“So,” Kíli said, glancing back at the grimacing Hobbit behind them, “Mister Baggins actually joined us…”

“Yes, it seems I owe you some gold, you rat.” Fíli smirked coyly with a twinkle in his eyes.

“If I remember correctly, it was more than just some gold, dear brother of mine.” Kíli’s grin almost split his face as he guided his pony into a faster trot which Fíli quickly matched.

“That’s not how I remember it, brother dear.”

“Has your age finally caught up to you?”

“They say things get better with age.”

“I didn’t know gray was drawing women in nowadays.”

Kíli was racing off with a grin on his face before Fíli even realized what had happened. When Dwalin glanced over at Thorin with an inquisitive eyebrow raise, Thorin didn’t even dignify him with a glance. 

~

As flauntlings go, Kíli and Fíli were, how you say, terrible. Before Kíli was born, Fíli was rather well behaved, never stepping out of line, always listening to his mother and uncle. But the moment that his brother arrived, everything was a new challenge to break the rules. They never knew if it was Kíli planning everything, or if it was Fíli because there was always the two of them together. 

Dís had long since given up on changing the boy’s behaviors, but Thorin was as stubborn as stubborn could be. He worked for a long while, teaching them stories of their past, blacksmithing, fighting, everything he could think of for them to channel their boundless energy. It worked with Fíli; fighting was the boys calling, something that he could practice for hours and not tire. Kíli, though, was much harder. Things that would interest normal Dwarrow child (fighting, games, hunting, etc.), didn’t seem to interest him.

Thorin began worrying about the implications of his disinterest until Fíli found something to fit his tastes. Metalworking or blacksmithing in some cases, was something that Thorin understood that he could finally teach his nephew to the fullest. Kíli’s fingers were long and lithe, but anything but delicate. The beautiful designs, he wove into steel, bronze and Iron, took Thorin's breath away. There was never a time when he was prouder than when Kíli gave him the first bead he’d ever made, crude, but beautiful and full of promise. 

~

The worst part about losing the ponies is the realization that they were more than likely going to disappoint their uncle. The trolls could be dealt with, but the disappointment long lasting past anything else. It wasn’t like Kíli and Fíli were doing anything important to use as a distraction from their duties. They had been playing with Ori’s slingshot (poor Ori had no idea where it was), seeing who could hit their targets better; which of course meant that Kíli was destroying any chance at Fíli ever winning. That was when he realized he hadn’t heard anything from the ponies for quite a while. Which led them getting help from Mister Baggins.

And then, well, parasites. 

Kíli was rather slow on the uptake; he had been rather offended at first that Mister Baggins would dare be so rude when he had gone to the trouble of trying to save him. Even if he and Fíli were the reason for them losing the ponies and getting Mister Baggins in danger anyway. It was quite exciting for being the very beginning of the adventure. Other than almost getting roasted (poor Ori looked terrified, couldn’t blame him that’s not exactly how he wanted Dwalin between his legs) it was a rather enlightening experience. 

Mister Baggins, no, Bilbo was different than Kíli had first thought. More calm under pressure than he had seemed at first. They had alienated him…a little from the very start. While it’s true that he wasn’t made for adventure, maybe they could change him into an adventure? Mother was fond of saying that everyone can change, why not a Halfling? 

“Bilbo?” Kíli called from his right. Bilbo started, obviously not prepared for being talked to. Not that they usually did talk to him much, he tended to sit by himself most days. His hazel eyes were wide with fright and suspicion; well-warranted suspicion. 

“Uh…” Bilbo looked around, for Fíli most likely, and when he didn’t seem him, he might have relaxed slightly. And didn’t that make him feel good about himself, “What is it, Kíli? Is anything wrong?”

“Oh, no!” Kíli plopped down right next to the hobbit who was currently relaxing against a tree on the outskirts of their campfire. “I wished just to sit and speak with you; I haven’t since you joined.”

Bilbo looked surprised and maybe a little cautious, but mostly surprised. “Well, if you wish to speak with me, can I ask you a question, if I may?” 

Kíli paused for a second, knowing almost immediately what that question was going to be. He was surprised it took Bilbo so long to ask it, whether they were friendly to each other or not. “You may.”

“Your ears are rather pointed, like mine.” That’s when Bilbo pushed back his curls, and his pointed ears came into view, “I know I’ve never seen many dwarves, but it seems only to be you.”

“My sire was an Elf, and yes I’m the only one of my people that I know of that are part elf.” Kíli’s voice fell into a slightly monotone level; his serious expression was almost undermined by his shifting eyes. Bilbo’s expression became knowing, and he awkwardly patted Kíli’s arm before reaching down and pulling up a pipe. Kíli mirrored the hobbits movements by pulling out his pipe, lighting the pipe weed and taking a deep breath. 

“I’m going to live for a very long time,” Kíli said after a long silence.

Bilbo took another draw from his pipe before answering, “It is both a gift and a curse to be immortal, especially when the people you love aren’t.” 

“Aye.” There was another beat of silence before Kíli looked at Bilbo again with a sad smile on his face. “You and I might just be in the same boat Mister Boggins, misfits on a journey where we’ll be constantly ridiculed, whether verbally or nonverbally.” Kíli rose, tapping the pipe softly against his hand to put it out before walking back to his bedroll to tuck in for the night.

~

Dís had given Kíli a pair of matching beads on the eve of coming of age dinner. They were silver and square shaped what parallel arrow heads and matching leaves on the four sides. She had given something similar to Fíli, though the designs had varied more towards swords and axes. She had told them that they were for them to remember that they were always on her mind and that every time it bounced against their head. They need to remember that it could be her hand smacking them so they should choose wisely about the choice they make. She’d helped him braid them into his hair and she’d even settled the hair to block to tips of his ears. Which had long gone red from the number of times she pulled them to get his attention when it strayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ended this chapter earlier than I wanted because I didn't want to stay of horribly late and I swore I would finish it before I went to sleep. Compromises. The chapters will get longer I swear, prepare for a long haul, the story might be a little fast paced right now, but it'll slow down more once it gets to a certain point. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you're enjoying where all this is going. Thank you for everyone that has already commented and left a kudos, your support means everything to me.


	3. A tragedy with more damage than a soul should see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so long...and doing this chapter...watch out for sadness...

Elves were beautiful, something that Kíli had hoped was a lie. The Last Homely House East of the Sea, was something that could only be described as alluring. Everything around him seemed to have this pull that he could only barely ignore. Fíli’s strong grip was probably the only thing stopping Kíli from wondering off to investigate everything around him; all he had to use was his eyes. 

Thorin stood in front of Kíli, his large and towering (for a dwarf) form almost completely blocked his view of the elves as they stood still around them. Kíli’s eyes locked on the armored elf that seemed to be the leader. His long brown hair fell down his sides, stopping mid-way down his chest. He had sharp blue eyes that scanned over the Dwarrow, assessing them without seeming threatening, even though he was perched upon a horse high above them. 

The elf stepped down when Gandalf yelled out towards him the elvish language spilling from his lips. Kíli pulled himself away from the elf when he passed close to him to greet Gandalf. Kíli could feel the fear deep inside him, the constant companion of his childhood. Would they see his features, would they recognize him for a half-breed? How would the elves react to this? His own people didn’t treat him like one of them, he could only imagine what the elves would do. 

Kíli remember all of the stories of the horror that the elves had wrought on his people; he remembered every night falling asleep to his uncle’s voice whispering in his ear. Kíli watched his uncle and Elrond speak to one another and he saw the moment where Elrond’s eyes fell and met Kíli’s. Kíli’s world froze as he saw the small flicker of shock cross the elves eyes before Kíli forced his body to almost fling itself towards Bilbo in an effort to get away from those eyes. Kíli silently cursed the orcs for their attack which had knocked his ears out of their hair coverage, leaving the points for all to see. 

~

There is always a point in a life where the innocence that accompanies someone from their childhood is lost. Kíli’s was lost when he was but a flauntling of fifteen. 

It had been at sunset on a day in the markets. He had been alone at the time, abandoned by his brother on a whim that only a child could justify. Kíli was silent and standing off to the side away from the crowds twiddling his thumbs. Most Dwarrow ignored him, though a few gave him a fleeting glance before continuing on with their days. This carried on for a while before someone stopped. When the shadow didn’t pass over him, Kíli looked up, hoping it was Fíli or his Uncle, but instead it was a stranger. The dwarf before him was old, the gray covering his hair completely and the wrinkles on his face making his grimace more intimidating. 

Kíli froze and all was still for a moment. When Kíli moved back, hoping to fade into the shadows, the Dwarrow’s arm shot forward and grabbed onto Kíli’s hair. He yanked him out from the darkness and into the middle of the market with Kíli howling him pain. Everyone around them froze and went bugged eyed at the display before them, but no one moved to help. 

“Well, well.” The old dwarf spoke with a deep booming voice. “If it isn’t the elven mutt.” Kíli gasped as the old dwarf placed his boot down on the flauntlings chest. “I’ve been waiting for when they finally left you alone, it’s about time we cleansed the Durin bloodline.” With a swift kick, Kíli was sent a few feet away, rolling across the rock and dirt covered ground, crying out as he heard a snap from somewhere. Only the sound of rock against leather filled the silence and Kíli attempted to scramble away, but he only got so far before something grabbed his ankle and dragged him back.

“Don’t you run from me, boy!” Kíli clawed at the ground, the rocks cutting into his skin and breaking his finger nails. It was then that a battle cry filled the market and the hand that was holding his ankle let go. Kíli dug his feet into the ground and flung himself forward, racing away from whatever was going on behind him. When someone reached down and grabbed him around his waist, Kíli kicked and screamed, trying to escape; it took a few minutes before whispers reached his ears.

“Please calm down, please, my little Kíli, please be quiet.” Kíli slumped into his mother’s arms and started wailing, tears pouring from his eyes, leaving bloodstains on his mother’s sleeves as he gripped them with his bleeding hands.

~

“You seem troubled.”

Kíli started out of his thoughts, swinging his head around to see Bilbo staring back at him. Kíli slumped against the balcony’s railing, sighing softly in relief. Fíli finding him would have led to a fight about why he was even hiding from them all, he was lucky it was just Bilbo. 

“It’s nothing, I’m just remembering things.” Kíli slid down to the ground, settling his back against the stone wall. Bilbo was obviously no convinced, settling down next to him like when they had talked after the trolls. They hadn’t sat with each other since then, something that Kíli refused to regret though denial could only get him so far. 

Kíli had almost become jealous in his time knowing Bilbo, the others were only just starting to become closer to the hobbit; something they almost refused to do with Kíli. Some of the dwarves were old and remembered the betrayal of the elves when Smaug came; they had a certain resent for him on principle, even if they managed to overcome it enough to be civil with him. Dori was an example of this; he had been the one to make the clothes for the Durin heirs for a long time, a favorite of their mother from before the dragon. Dori had only held back his distaste for Dís’ choice of bedmates because she was royalty and a dear friend. Kíli had never truly gotten the same treatment. He was sure that Ori becoming friends with Fíli and Kíli had been argued on many an occasion. Dori’s obvious like of the hobbit’s manners had born a friendship that, while not long lasting, was more than Kíli had ever had. Kíli was fearful that one day he would come to hate the hobbit, but it didn’t seem to be happening now. 

“Would you like to share?”

Kíli’s first reaction was almost to scream no, but something stopped him. He’d never spoke to anyone about his troubles, Fíli was the only one who even had some sort of idea. Would it truly hurt him to share with someone who didn’t share the views of his people? A mediator who loved elves and was treated like an outcast by his people. Kíli looked up at the Hobbit, glancing over him before sighing.

“Come and sit, it’ll be a while.”

Bilbo settled down next to him, folding his hands into his lap and looking at Kíli expectantly. Kíli chuckled before taking a deep breath. 

“My mother never told anyone who my father was.”

~

Flowers were rare in the Blue Mountains; snow was almost all year round, melting for only for a few months every year. During those few months, Kíli ran through the trees, rolling in the grass hills and basking in the sun. When he was eight, he saw his first flower. It had been so small, packed closely together with duplicates, bunches scattered across the open clearing that bled into the forest. It was blue with a yellow center and it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. 

~

Kíli felt the elves eyes boring into the back of his head while he stared down at the leafy greens in front of him. Kíli wish Fíli or Bilbo were the ones sitting with him, but he was lucky enough to have Bifur at the same table, at least. While everyone slowly began to lose patience with their meal, Kíli tried his hardest just to eat his greens and ignore everyone around him. He was lucky that none of the elves had managed to get him alone, in fact, Bilbo had been the only one other than Fíli to even speak to him sense they had arrived. Kíli was sure it was because of their business and all the talk about moon-things and Durin’s Day, but that nagging feeling that had plagued him since childhood whispered in the back of his mind. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to enjoy everything, but the anxiety of the elves surrounding him put a huge damper on the mood. It was enough that Kíli wasn’t eating, only glancing around at the other every now and then. When he went to take a drink of his wine, Kíli made the mistake of taking a look to his right and meeting the eyes of Elrond. He was so shocked that he choked on his drink, spitting the rest off to the side accidentally into Bifur’s face. Laughter filled the air as Kíli rushed to apologize and grab a napkin only to trip and fall backwards out of his chair napkin in hand. 

His elbows hit the ground before the rest of him did, sending waves of pain through his arms that made him wince. Voices rose in uproar of laughter and Kíli flinched away from the rest of them before quickly standing and rushing off down a random path. 

~

After the “incident”, Kíli didn’t leave the house. He barely ate or drank anything, pretending like the world didn’t exist. The only one who could feed him was his mother, the one to have found him, the only one he trusted at the time. Fíli was heart-broken and wracked with layers of guilt that left him dragging himself around the house, waiting for his little brother to wake up from his stupor. Thorin persecuted the dwarf, but he left Kíli to his mother, not knowing how to truly deal with the traumatized child. 

Kíli would stared outside at the sun’s rays that spilled into the room for days on end with a dull look in his eyes. His mother held him as he cried to sleep at night, hand fed him all his meals, bathed him, and gently coasted him to drink his water. When his silence and immobility stretched into weeks and then to months, Thorin and Dís began to frantically search for some way of awaking him. 

Fíli was the one to snap Kíli out of it after a year. On the anniversary of the attack Fíli appeared at Kíli’s doorstep with a handful of flowers. Their blue petals and yellow center caught Kíli’s eyes and truth emotion flickered back into his dull pupils. He reached for them with his boney fingers and cradled them to his chest. 

His first words in a year were, “I forgive you.”

~

“I was waiting for a moment to speak with you, Ser Dwarf.”

Without turning around, Kíli kicked his feet through the fountain he sat before. The others were long gone, leaving Kíli behind (Fíli hadn’t wanted to, but Kíli… just wanted to be alone) to his thoughts. He knew there would eventually be a talk between him and Elrond, it was inevitable that he would be caught alone. He had just hoped it hadn’t been so soon, and while he was already feel terrible. 

“Your name is Kíli, yes? Your uncle mentioned you.” That took Kíli by surprise, he quickly glanced back with narrowed eyes, he must have used some form of trickery if he knew Kíli’s name. But Elrond’s face showed no signs of ill intentions, in fact his eye and smile were so sincere Kíli had no idea what to do. Kíli swung his head back to look at the water with his own reflection to keep him company. He heard the sound of cloth brushing together before Elrond settled onto the ground next to him. 

Kíli was nervous, the cloth that Elrond wore was obviously of very fine material and he was going to ruin it if Kíli didn’t move. However, there was nothing Kíli could do, his body froze on its own and all he could do was stare into his own eyes. From the corners of his vision he could see Elrond’s own reflection glancing over at the young half-dwarf and Kíli felt oddly unthreatened. He was terrified, but not because he was scared of physical harm; he had already gone through so much already in his life time. He was scared of the rejection that was certain; the only constant thing in his whole life other than Fíli. 

Nothing was said, they sat in silence for a long time, until the sun was almost down beyond the mountains and the moon had risen in its place. He couldn’t tell if it was because of him or because of Elrond, but Kíli was at least at peace for some time. It didn’t last forever, it was when the sun finally disappeared that Lord Elrond spoke once more.

“You know what I wished to speak to you about.” His voice was sure, no room for debate. It wasn’t like Kíli didn’t know what it was, but he had hoped that if he avoided it for as long as possible, Elrond would leave. If any of the race of Middle Earth, elves would have the most patience. Though he didn’t even know himself why he’d even stayed there for so long. Maybe he actually wanted to have this conversation; have an honest conversation for the first time with an elf and understand who they truly were.

“Yes, I do, I just wish you wouldn’t.” Kíli looked over at Elrond, not quite meeting his eyes before staring up at the beautiful fountain before them that shimmered in the moons glow. 

“And why is that? You really don’t know exactly what I’ll say, only that I will say something about you.” 

“I know what they all say, elves will be no different.”

Elrond leaned over into his sight before standing, brushing off nonexistent dirt from his robes. “That is where you’re wrong, let me let you in on something.” Kíli stood up next to him, trying to take back any height advantage the elf had. “You might be surprised to know, but elves are far more accepting of half-breeds than the Dwarrow seem to be.”

“And how is that?”

~

Kíli had dreams of elves as a child.

Dreams, not nightmares, it was an important distinction. Kíli was terrified of elves, his uncle had made sure of that, but at night Kíli would watch in wonder as the ethereal-like beings walked down a path. They glowed in the moonlight marching with their banners held proudly above their heads. They were all so vivid except for their faces with were devoid of all features. The glow was so bright it was almost as if they didn’t have any faces at all. 

Kíli would walk up to the precession with wonder in his eyes and a single horse would always stop. This elf would always be like a beacon for the rest, his body destroying the shadows of the world around him. The elf would guide his horse towards him and all Kíli could see was his blonde hair falling down his body in a graceful way that elves were known for. A hand would always reach down for his and hang there for as long as it took for Kíli to decide whether to take it or not. Kíli would always reach for it.

And right before he grabbed it, it was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to Morvel for their comment; your headcanons are actually really good ideas and I hope you don't mind if I borrow them. And a thank you to everyone who commented, kudosed, bookmarked, and even just took a look at the fic. I've had a lot of changes in my life in the past few months and I've been getting sick a lot more lately. All of your support means everything to me and I'll try and keep up a more fixed schedule (or at least update with a small time gap, like two-three months is too much).


	4. But just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ssssssh don't ask questions...

The crystal clear waters of Rivendell cascaded down weathered stone into the basins far below the pillared halls. The towering mountains wrapped around them like a blanket with green as far as the eye could see, a sharp contrast from the rolling hills of snow that covered his homeland. It was everything that Kíli could have never dreamed of and they left it all behind. 

He held back his complaints under the scrutinizing glares of his fellow Dwarrow, but snuck glances back, his heart panging in his chest like he’d lost something. Wasn’t that the truth? Such easy acceptance, such kind words that he’d only ever heard from the mouths of those closest to him. Just like Bilbo, he wished they could have stayed longer so he could soak in all the beauty that he would never get to see again if Thorin had anything to do with it. Best to forget they’d even walked its halls or the ache in his heart would grow and consume him. 

-

Ori had been a surprise, a heavy burden on a mother who was far past her prime and a family struggling to survive through harsh winters. In the night she passed leaving the world for the Halls of Mahal and her family and new born child behind. The boy had been sickly and weak, something unforgiving to those who lived on the Blue Mountains, but he survived against all odds and grew to be a fine young man. 

The cold stole the breaths from the few children that came to them, so age appropriate companionship was limited. The Brothers Ri had little choice, but to allow Ori’s friendship with the Durin brothers and what a friendship it became. Whatever Dori attempted to teach the boy from a young age was countered by Nori and the brothers, something that never stopped irking the tailor. 

If mischief was an art form, they were masterful artists indeed, weaving pranks and jokes like magical spells and reaping their bounty on the unsuspecting. It only grew more elaborate and wonderful when young Gimli joined their ranks. It was glorious. 

But all good things come to an end. Fíli’s teachings took his time and Ori’s apprenticeship with Balin took any he had. Gimli, whose training was still in the beginning stages, and Kíli, whose training had ended, were alone near the end of their stay. 

-

The Misty Mountains were a horror in comparison to everything they’d gone through. Kíli had never particularly liked the cold, though he’d grown used to it with his years in the Blue Mountains, but the endless rains pouring down upon them with great boulders crashing into the rock face and the cold? It was enough to make the most hardened warrior feel daunted and Kíli was not a hardened warrior. And neither was Bilbo. Kíli could only imagine the horror of what this journey must be instilling onto their poor Hobbit, taken from his beautiful little hole in the ground and forced into a mess that wasn’t even his own. Not even including Thorin’s own harsh words that seemed to counteract the loud noises that surrounded them like an arrow to his heart.

It wasn’t Bilbo’s fault that he had slipped, that the ground had fallen out from under him with the crash of stone against stone. It wasn’t Bilbo’s fault that he wasn’t as hardy as a dwarf, that he wasn’t adapted to the harsh world around them. It wasn’t Bilbo’s fault. 

There had been that moment of horror when the Stone Giants legs pulled apart and the sight of Fíli being pulled from him sent a great chill through his heart. Stuck in a rampaging war of great beasts, unlucky enough to be at the center of their battle ground with falling rocks and debris. He’d needed his brother’s comfort, needed that hand in his, but it was retched away with Fíli’s desperate cries in his ears. Kíli liked to think that he was all grown up just like Thorin, that he could be strong and powerful, never letting the elements truly affect him. He was a fool to even think so. 

In the dark and dank cavern that was their shelter, Kíli lay awake, staring into the darkness with the sounds of rain echoing around him. Was he a fool for coming? He was not strong like his friends, he tried to be brave, but what true experience did he have? If things kept up he would die like many other great Dwarrow of the past, but that was the true question. Was he even a Dwarrow? Fíli comforted him in the night when he voiced his fears, but Fíli would never understand, could never understand. 

He was pulled from his musings with the sound of the scraping of feet against the stone. Bilbo, tip toeing across the cave, trying to be sneaky but failing the moment that Bofur noticed him. Their exchange was brief and harried, but it was everything that Kíli knew that Bilbo’d been feeling. Neither of them were cut out for the journey, both unwanted except by a few, but was it even enough to keep them there. It obviously wasn’t enough for Bilbo and it wasn’t enough for Kíli.

“I’ll protect him.” A shocked silence greeted him and Bofur and Bilbo stared at him as he rose and crossed the cave to be by their side. 

“What are you talking about, Kíli?” Bilbo’s voice shook with emotions kept just beneath the surface and Bofur was still shocked out of his mind. 

“Tell me, what’s the point of me even being here?” Kíli’s eyes filled with tears, blurring his vision, but he would not cry. “Uncle didn’t want me to come, Fíli didn’t want me to come, and Mother didn’t want me to come. What have I ever done to deserve the honor of saving Erbor, what can one little half elf like me even do against a beast like that?” He choked back the tears, folding in on himself for a moment before pulling at the remaining courage in his heart. “Neither of us would survive the journey back to Rivendell alone, it’s better if we go together.”

Bofur shook off his shock, eyes wide and blue, desperate for understanding. “What about your brother, Kíli?” It was hard to forget that Bofur was an older brother himself, that maybe he would understand things that Kíli would never know, but Kíli would be damned if it stopped him.

“He’ll be better off not having to protect me at every step we take. I am as much of a burden as a helpless babe.” 

Silence reigned with Bilbo’s nod and about face, it was in that moment that both Bofur and Kíli noticed the glow of the sword. By then, it was already too late. 

-

Fear was not talked about among the Dwarrow; to fear was to be weak to be weak was to be useless and Dwarrow do not suffer those who are useless. Though, the Dwarrow suffered one great fear that was spoken in soft tones among those around them and only in secret. The fear of extinction. Children were few and far in between along with females, the reminder of this hung over them like a dark cloud and sent shivers down their spines. 

For Kíli, though, it was different. Time held no pull over him so death by old age was never a fear, but if you asked him what his fear was. If you sat him down and talked to him and asked the questions he would simply say, Loneliness. 

-

The drop would have been more fun if Kíli understood where they were going in the first place. Then, finding out? Much worse. They tumbled out the ceiling and into a wooden bowl, piling on top of one another like apples in a fruit basket. Without warning, hundreds of goblins sprang from the darkness and swarmed them. It was a confusing mess of arms and legs and weapons, grasping fingers ripping at his clothes and yanking his hair. Just moments ago he was ready to up and leave and now he was in a cauldron of mayhem being dragged to who knows where. 

They all fought, they were dwarves of course they did, every drop of their blood hummed for battle and their stalwart nature refused to bend to anybody’s will but their own. They were yanked, pushed and shoved, corralled down the long winding wooden bridges loud echoes of beating drums filling the halls and covering their bloody battle cries. Kíli was forced somewhere in the middle, jostled back and forth between different goblins and his uncle. Dori cried for Ori, Dwalin howled for space, but in the end they were completely overwhelmed. 

The Goblin King and his subjects sang, or at least tried to. It was a little unnerving, listening to someone go on and on about various torture methods and ways to end a person’s life, but Kíli needed to be brave. Brave for Ori and his brother and Uncle, but especially for himself. If they were going to push him around and steal his weapons, then he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of being afraid. 

He was pushed till he had a front row seat to the performance of the Goblin King, watching the huge goitered monster spin around on his tip toes all dainty and disgusting. It was enough to make someone nauseous. Ori stuck close on his right and Bifur looked on with a maniacal twinkle to his left. Oin and Bofur’s attempts to pull away the beasts attentions ultimately failed and Ori would suffer for it. Over Kili’s dead body. 

They grabbed and pulled at the youngest dwarf, attempting to separate him from the group, but nobody, especially Thorin, would allow that to happen. It all fell to chaos the moment they discovered Thorin’s Goblin Cleaver, whips and sticks beatings from all sides, the pain became almost everything in Kili’s mind, except for the ever present rage.

An explosion of light and a deafening sound silenced the world around them and, for a moment, Kili wondered if this was what it was like to be Oin. Then Gandalf called them to fight, to take up arms and defeat their foes like true dwarves. They sprang to action. 

The blood pumping through his veins was what truly pulled Kili to fight and to win. He used his sword to slice and stab his enemies without quarter or mercy, in that moment they were not sentient beings they were feral animals that tried to kill his friends and family. They didn’t deserve life and Kili would take it from them. In the frantic chase across the rotting wood planks of Goblin Town, the years of training at his brother’s side and the teachings of his uncle and Dwalin became everything. He did not fear death and he did not feel insecure about his place. 

They sliced and cut and maimed, used polls to push the goblins over the edge and to their deaths at Dwalin’s lead. Even little Ori, the impish scribe with a quill in his hand and his face in his books, carried a war hammer and slammed it upon the enemies heads without mercy. They all stuck close guarding each other’s backs and propelling through the cavern with a single thought of escape. Kili used a ladder as a shield, slamming it down on their heads and using it as a bridge across a gap too large for their stumpy legs. The swung on swaying bridges and jumped gaps with an ingenuity and tactical thinking many didn’t attribute to dwarves. 

In the end, the exit was in sight and the Goblin King broke through the bridge in a very dramatic fashion only to be killed immediately by Gandalf. Seemed rather anticlimactic, but Kili’ll take victories when they’re given. Then the fat corpse broke pulled to world out from under them and they were following, sliding down rock and stone, crashing and destroying everything around them as they tended to do. It was a blessing to land and survive, but Bofur just had to say that wonderful “Could have been worse,” phrase.

When the body of the Goblin King crashed down upon their backs, Dwalin’s “You’ve got to be kiddin’ me!” Was a sentiment shared by all.

-

There was a memory deep, deep inside of Kili’s mind that he only drags to the surface in his lowest moments. He was but a small babe, his mind only have barely come to awareness. He remembered toddling along in the woods, alone, cold and scared. It had to have been an hour of just endless trees and plants that were still taller than him when he heard a voice.

Deep, commanding and comforting. A voice that called through the wilderness to his ears, across the white snow and skeletal branches. He remembered rising and being pressed against a warm and fur covered chest, the slight shaking of sobs being wretched from a throat. He remembered realizing that it was his uncle, holding him tightly and Kili cried with him, relieved and safe. 

Kili remembers this and keeps it close to his chest, a warm hearted vision that granted him a moment’s reprieve from the darkness of days forth. A happy ending he dreams up for his own story.

**Author's Note:**

> Names of chapters taken from:  
> 1: Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine  
> 2: Alligator Sky by Owl City (Rap and Non Rap Version)  
> 3\. Beautiful Disaster by Kelly Clarkson  
> 4\. Try by P!nk


End file.
